Rainy days in April
by headphone frenzy
Summary: Everything he did was amazing, regardless of what. So was it that complex as to why Falkner found him so charming? Morty x Falkner. Honorshipping. Fluff. AU. One Shot.


Rainy Days in April.

Headphone does not own.

(x)

Everything he did was amazing.

Whether he was doing was simply fixing his hair nonchalantly, or doing whatever the hell else that just made him a prime subject to my complete and utter adoration. Everything he did turned out to be 150% perfect. I'm not exactly sure if I could be qualified as creepy, or even a stalker as of this point, but it was like no matter what he did, something just struck me in the side as being completely and utterly wonderful. Those feelings left me hopelessly star-struck, possibly a little bit love-sick.

I'm almost positive this sounds cheesy, and maybe even with a small dash of 'pathetic', but it wasn't my fault my body decided that his absolute uncaring, stern attitude was exactly what it wanted, and it would have nothing else.

No, _seriously_, it refused anything and everything that did not have awkwardly short/long blonde hair held put lazily with a pale and probably unwashed purple head-band, a permanent smirk that showed his confidence in about 376 different ways, and eyes that were as equal of purple as amethysts. This was the exact recipe for my gut to feel like it was going to explode with happiness. It refused to care the slightest bit about anyone or anything else. No joke, I looked through twelve different magazines, different genders, hobbies, movies, novels, and other things in desperation to find some solace. Yet nothing made me feel like butterflies were hatching in my gut aside from him and his stupidly smirking, annoyingly set, yet remarkably perfect face, perfect body. It was like anything that was in his presence suddenly turned into this odd gold that made my entire brain go blank and make me (dare I say it) fluster.

I know, me, Falkner, fluster? It sounds pretty much unheard of, but contrary to popular belief, I have more emotions then acting like I have a permanent ten-foot pole up my ass. (unlike cough_silver_cough.)

But Morty. Man, did that guy make me happy. Not 'excited', or any other terms kids-these-days use, no I mean actually happy, as in 'OH BOY I'M SO HAPPY I THINK I JUST SHAT KITTENS AND RAINBOWS!' but not quiet that far. That guy just did something to my entire nervous system that just shut it down and say in flashing red letters 'good luck making an ass of yourself from not properly thinking.'

Yeah, and that was just what happened on _that one day_.

I know, real specific, but it does get better!

So, on that _one day_, I'd have to say I was a bit more tired, a bit stupider, and a bit more outgoing then I was on any other day of the week before that. If I remember correctly, I believe _that day_ was actually a Wednesday, and if I think hard enough, I'd be able to think of the date, but all I remember is it being some dismal, rainy day in late April.

"So, that wraps up Hamlet, any questions?"

The teacher was blabbering on about something or another, but I never _really_ paid attention. If it was any other day out of the whole 356, I might have avoided this, but hey, who knows? It could have happened the day after, or even after that. Personally, I think I liked it better after he knew, but if it was really up to me, I would have liked to tell him in a way that was even _a bit_ more graceful than what I'd done. (Because unlike cough_silver_cough, I did care that people were judging me.)

"Alright, there are questions in the back of the book."

I could hear the creak of his desk three rows over, and I felt like I was not only hearing him with my ears, but like my entire body was focused on him to the point I think I forgot to breathe. Before he even said anything, I could already hear his voice, since he always took in a sharp, nasally and hitched, breath before speaking, and when he did, it was in this nonchalant tone that spoke in tones of lazy and sloth. But, sadly, there was nothing I could really do about it, since my body absolutely refused anything and everything else.

"Hey, Clair, what'd teach' say? I was sleeping."

From where I sat, I could hear her exhale in a deep sigh, and all I could really think is 'shut up and let him talk', because in all honesty, lately I didn't care what anyone said except for him.

"Seriously? When did you learn to sleep with your eyes open?"

"Always."

Part of me gagged a little, at the fact of how creepy that sounded, but then the other part of me, the external part, just sat with my back straight and stiff like a ruler, and my eyes peering into the nothingness of an empty void. Yeah, I know I was a bit odd for just sitting there listening so carefully that I could hear his chair squeak as he lifted his left leg over his other appendage, though in a way where he could still be properly called 'manly'.

Some part of me, some really odd part of me that I never even knew existed, decided to be surprisingly outgoing, and for some odd reason that I have yet, to this day, been able to fathom, went up and _approached_ him. Yeah, it was like this big huge thing saying 'no' was dangling three inches above my nose, and yet I completely ignored it. But, for some unreasonably stupid and probably ludicrous reason, I found myself standing in front of his desk, and with one sentence, I decided that something was wrong with my brain and I was, undoubtedly ill. Even after all these days after it, even after weeks and months, I can still remember that tired yet completely attentive reaction that somehow made my gut shrivel with guilt yet swell with love and butterflies.

"I need to tell you something, Morty."

"Shoot it."

There was silence for what I believed to be around two minutes and twelve seconds, but with the way he awkwardly stared into my _soul_, it seemed to be an eternity and a half.

"_Alone_."

"Oh."

I was almost positive that he had _almost_ gotten the hint at that point, but for some reason beyond my honest knowledge, I think of his brain as being a thickly padded and highly condensed brick of stupidity, despite how much my gut, heart, and etc. feels that he is as important as the sun and moon themselves.

By the time we had gotten to a different part of the room where I was sure no one would really hear me, or more so, _us_, I had started getting second doubts, and a chill ran up my spine and seemed to make my brain temporarily stop. But, nonetheless, the feeling of having Morty, the only thing my body had ever decided was above the typical filth known as 'high school girls and boys with acne and cracked voices', look at me and only me, with no distractions aside from his yawning and dreary state, was something I felt my heart was not prepared for in the slightest.

"So, what'd you need?"

Scratch what I thought even 4 seconds prior, since he obviously had no idea, and part of me wanted to make up an excuse, but thankfully, my brain had short circuited about 12 minutes prior.

"I, I ."

This all came out in a torrent, and I refused to make eye-contact while saying it, while I could see from my peripherals that he was looking directly into my eyes.

Needless to say, my entire head felt like some sort of foggy sauna, my stomach felt the need to try and reacquaint me with my less-then-mediocre school lunch, and my fingernails with chipped nail-polish were burrowed so far into my palm that I thought I could feel them cutting into the clammy flesh. (Mental note: Trim nails and re-manicure them tonight.) Though, from what I could see with my one eye, he was completely unfazed by any of this, and was simply thinking. There was a moment where any talking between us had become nil, and I felt as though every inch of my body was on the verge of completely shattering from stiffness.

The unnerving silence was shattered not even half a minute after I had spoke in such a rapid torrent.

"Sure, why not? You're cute."

He placed his hand on my head, ruffling my hair slightly, and I swear I could feel something hitch in my heart, and without any form of cueing, my eyes beamed with relief, and maybe he could see it, maybe he'd chose to ignore it, but whatever. It was obvious that he was taller than I was, but I really didn't care that he had little to no trouble combing my hair back down from his actions 3 seconds prior.

"Is this really what's been getting you down for the past…however long."

He thought for a moment before finishing, choosing his words carefully, as far as I could tell. Part of me wanted to scream in joy at the fact that he had even slightly noticed my mood change, but the other part of me said 'it's normal for people to notice when someone's feeling down'. I decided to stick with the more logical half of my brain, but I still couldn't believe any of this was real.

"Yeah, you've got no idea."

"Maybe I do."

His smirk turned into a genuine smile, and I felt sheepish.

There was a part of me that _knew_ that I was going to get in trouble for PDA, but there was another part of me, a more willing and expressive fraction, that said 'screw it'. So, without so much as another word, I extended my neck forward, balanced my toes to a position that maximized my height, and placed a small peck of Morty's (incredibly smooth, as I found out) check.

"Yup, you're mine, now."

"Oh am I?"

"Yeah, until later at least."

"After school, my house."

There was a bit of silence after that, and I felt a small chuckle in the back of my throat, like for the first time in a long time I was truly amused, or even humored. And without a bit of word's notice, I let it out, and him, being the loveable sloth he was, simply laughed along with me, the unheard joke seeming completely amusing to us and completely insane to others.

But, no matter, everything he did was amazing.

End.

(x)

GOD THIS SUCKS.

D

I JUST WANTED TO WRITE AN HONORSHIPPING AU, AND THEN I END UP WITH CREEPY, CREEPY THINGS.

NOT TO MENTION THAT ENDING WAS COMPLETE SHIT, AND I HAD TO REWRITE IT HALF A DOZEN TIMES TO GET IT TO EVEN MEDIOCRE.

UGHHHHH.

(If I ever decide to continue this, Clair is going to get super jealous and try to hit Falkner with a car.)


End file.
